If The Sun Don't Rise
by purplepagoda
Summary: Recent events have Maura in an introspective state. She wanders what kind of life she is living if it feels like a lie. What happens when she allows her life to meet at the right intersections. What does the future hold, when she finally faces her past?
1. When It Rains

It is just after ten o'clock, and she shows no signs of tiring. She sits on a barstool in her kitchen, at the island, staring at a bottle of bourbon. She glances at the unopened bottle, and the glass in front of her. It isn't one of her regular glasses. Instead she finds a Mason jar sitting in front of her. She wants to smile, but her heart feels too heavy. She opens the bottle, and pours some of the amber liquid into the Mason jar. She takes a few sips, and her mind travels to a headstone. She has faced death on more than one occasion. It seems that her recent abduction has brought up many unforgiving memories. She recounts in vivid detail the tombstone of baby Maura Doyle. She reminds herself that her entire life has been lived on borrowed time, from her first breath.

She wonders if her entire life has been a lie. She certainly has not come as far as she thought that she would by now, but then again her plans have been interrupted so many times. She was always too smart for her own good. She entered college shortly after her seventeenth birthday, and finished in only three years. After three years in undergrad school she was able to stick to her plan, and complete four years of medical school, in only three years. After two years as a resident only a single year stood between her, and freedom to practice on her own. That is where her plan was shot to hell, and her world was turned completely upside down.

* * *

 _July 9_ _th_ _, 2002—_

 _She is in the morgue of the hospital, late at night. She is in the locker room, changing out of her scrubs into street clothes. She hears someone arguing outside of the door. She laces her sneakers, and heads for the door. She finds two men arguing in the hallway. She looks up, and finds her mentor moving towards them. Neither of them men seem to notice her. They remain focused on her mentor. The taller of the two gentlemen reaches into the waistband of his pants, and removes a gun from the small of his back. He pulls the trigger, before she can stop him. Her colleague hits the wall. He collapses on the floor in a pool of blood. Without a second thought she races towards him. There is nothing that she can do. It is too late. She notices the whole in his forehead. She hears the click of a gun, and looks up. Her hands are covered in blood, and she finds the two men towering over her. She flinches as the bullet flies towards her. She feels the warmth leaving her body as the footsteps fade into the distance, and she drifts from consciousness._

* * *

She traces the rim of her glass. As she thinks about the life she leads now, she can't help but feel guilty. Her nostrils flare as she tries to push the memories back into the recesses of her mind. She feels the anger welling up inside of her as she thinks about her PTSD. Her thoughts shift to all of the times that she has cheated death. She exhales, scoffing, "Like this is living." She feels angry, and bitter. This was not how she imagined her life. She figured she would be married, with children by now. She feels empty, because she may never had the things she wanted most in life. Her normal life trajectory was rudely, and abruptly altered by two nine millimeter bullets.

* * *

 _July 10_ _th_ _, 2002—She opens her eyes, and finds herself connected to a multitude of tubing. There is an IV originating from her antecubital, and oxygen connected to her nose. Her throat burns more with each breath. She can hear monitors chirping, and quickly realizes that she is in the hospital. She looks to her left, and finds a woman in a suit. Despite the severity of the situation she recalls the time in college that the FBI tried to recruit her. The woman notices her stirring, and scoots her chair closer. She pats her hand._

" _It's okay," she reassures her._

 _Maura studies the woman with dark hair. For some reason she isn't sure that she can believe her._

" _Maura you were shot."_

" _I remember._

" _You had your phone in your jacket pocket. The bullet nicked your phone, and slightly altered the trajectory of the bullet. The bullet ended up lodged in your scapula. You are lucky to be alive. They removed the bullet."_

" _I just want to go home."_

 _The woman reaches into her pocket, and pulls out identification._

* * *

No matter how many crime scenes she visits she is always brought back to that night. From the feeling of the blood draining from her body, to lying on the cold tile floor in the basement of the hospital, the details don't escape her. She remembers the faces of the perpetrators as clearly as if it had just happened the previous day. She was on rotation in the morgue. She never had the desire to become a medical examiner. After that day she was driven to speak for the dead for a very personal reason. She wonders who would have spoken for her, if she hadn't made it that day, or any of the others in which her life was supposed to be stolen from her. But what kind of life was she living?


	2. The Mess I Made

She thinks of another tombstone. Another name etched in stone, only signifying the life that she could have had. The connections that she made were lost in another single instant. Someone's mission was to end what had been set in motion, and success was the only option. She never waivered in her level of commitment, no matter how much she wanted to. No matter how many times she questioned whether or not she was making the right choice, she did what was asked of her.

She thinks about Jane, and how she never would have come to know her, if not for that fateful night in the basement of the hospital, or a few other twists, and turns that she never could have foreseen. She heads into the guest bedroom, and turns on the light in the closet. She shoves aside some old clothes, and stares at the wall. She pushes a depression in the wall, and the wall separates, opening. She steps inside the five by five area, and pulls out her flash light. The area is just a pile of boxes. She takes the box from the top of the pile, and leaves the room. She pulls the door closed, and leaves the closet. She takes a seat on the floor, and opens the copier paper box.

She reaches inside, and finds a palm pilot with a bullet in it. For a moment she grins, but the sadness quickly re-envelopes her. She stares at the picture of a familiar face, and her resolve to move on, and not allow her past to haunt her instantly dissipates. She feels her cheeks burn with anger.

* * *

 _She stares at the woman, feeling a sense of distrust, as she pulls out her badge. She flashes it._

" _My name is Rachel Cranston, I work for…"_

 _Maura cuts her off, "You are with the Marshal Service."_

" _I am. We will be relocating you. The men who shot you are members of a very dangerous crime organization. We need to ensure your safety."_

" _You expect me to leave my entire life here?"_

" _I know that this must be difficult."_

" _I am going to be a doctor," she argues._

" _Our office has come up with a career option that will be equally as rewarding, though the pay is not the same."_

" _Excuse me?"_

" _Once you complete rehabilitation for your shoulder we you will be trained to become a member of the secret service. The men who tried to kill you are on the lam, and it may take us some time to find them. It will be years before this can go to trial, so we want to offer you an identity with some longevity."_

" _You are relocating me to D.C.?"_

" _The organization has no ties to D.C."_

" _I don't want to do this."_

" _You have no choice."_

" _Why do you think that I am capable of becoming a member of the secret service?"_

" _The FBI thought that you were a worthy candidate, and they tried to recruit you."_

* * *

Much to her chagrin, she actually enjoyed the intensity of being a secret service agent. Unfortunately that opportunity ended abruptly, and she had to determine her next move. Every fiber of her being wanted to go home, and return to medicine. It was her passion, but instead she took the job that she was offered. She grew attached to her co-workers. She developed bonds, and began to question whether she could ever return home to Boston. In D.C. she was less stifled, more outgoing. She didn't push people away as readily back then.

* * *

 _May 1_ _st_ _, 2005—She has just drifted off on her couch, when someone begins banging at her door. She shifts into a sitting position, and instinctively grabs her gun. She heads to the door, and looks through the peephole. She pulls the door open, after unbolting it, and lowers her weapon. Rachel enters the room._

" _What are you doing here?"_

" _I need to talk to you."_

" _Rachel can I ask how you ever became part of the Marshal service?"_

 _She grins, "Like you, I was recruited."_

" _You are a clinical psychologist," she points out._

" _Sometimes we choose our paths, and other times we are called to duty."_

" _It is after midnight, why are you here?"_

" _I wanted to let you know that you will be going home, soon."_

" _How? When?"_

" _Tragically, and soon."_

" _Tragically? In what way?"_

" _Don't worry about that, just be prepared."_

* * *

She shakes her head as she thinks about her instructions to be prepared. She was not permitted to tell anyone, in case things went south with the trial, and she needed to be relocated. Maura Isles returned to Boston, and left Kate Todd lying in a morgue in DC. She poured herself into her work, and tried not to ever consider the loneliness that was suddenly inside of her. If she hadn't witnessed a murder, if she hadn't gone to DC she never would have known there was something more. She wouldn't still be chasing what she had already found.

* * *

 _He gets her to the morgue, and insists on being left alone with the body. Once the others have left he unzips the body. He pushes the fabric aside, and stares at her face. He remembers an unusual conversation he had only the previous morning. A federal agent telling him she would die, but that she was not in fact dead. As he looks at her, he can't help but think it will not be difficult to cooperate, as she appears dead. He presses his finger to her neck. Her chest does not move. He hears footsteps, and the autopsy doors open. A man appears, and injects Kate with a solution. He notices slight chest movement, but he can't understand how it is possible. She has taken a large caliber bullet to the brain._

" _Ari is one of ours, he had one mission," the agent explains._

" _She is dead," Ducky argues._

" _The bullet was a blank. A red gel capsule with a neuromuscular block agent was in the tip. Upon impact it mimicked the appearance of blood splatter, and effectively knocked her out."_

 _Kate begins gasping for air, and her eyes pop open._

" _My teammates are going to be suspicious when there is no body."_

 _The door opens, and they wheel in a body. Ducky shakes his head, "This is cruel. I cannot go along with this. They will know it isn't her."_

 _They unzip the body, and she is remarkably similar in appearance to Kate. There are some subtle differences, but none that will be noticed without a magnifying glass._


	3. Someone Like You

Her whole life she has been planning her future, and at every turn her plans have been completely obliterated. She had been careful, and cautious, and yet chaos always seems to find her. She is tired of feeling this way. She doesn't want to feel as if she is living in state of limbo anymore. She doesn't want to be alone forever. She picks up the phone, and dials a familiar number. The party on the other end answers after two rings.

"Rizzoli," is the answer she elicits.

"Can you come over here?"

"It is," Jane glances at her alarm clock, "ten thirty on Saturday night, and I just fell asleep. We woke up at three o'clock this morning. I am exhausted. Is this an emergency?"

"Please."

"Is someone dead?"

"No one you know."

Jane furrows her brow, too tired to decipher Maura's cryptic messages, "Fine I will be over shortly."

When Jane arrives she enters through the front door. Maura is sitting at the kitchen island wearing her pajamas sipping on a cup of coffee. Jane enters the room wearing her pajamas. She notes the box sitting on Maura's island. She pulls out a barstool, and takes a seat. She also notices a partially empty bottle of bourbon, and an empty mason jar. She tilts her head as she pulls her stool up to the counter.

"Maura since when do you drink bourbon?"

"It seems like a lifetime ago," she answers, continuing with her cryptic theme.

"Okay, what the hell is going on? I am too tired for you to be mysterious with me. It is nearly eleven o'clock, and I just fell asleep. We woke up at three in the morning today, and I am exhausted. Are you having some sort of existential crisis here?"

"That is exactly what is going on here," Maura admits.

Jane furrows her brow, "It is?"

"Yes," she nods.

"In what sense?"

"Once upon a time I was forced to live a life that was different from my own."

"Is this where you tell me that your parents made you go to medical school, when you really wanted to be a ballerina, or some such nonsense?"

"No. I am being serious. I would like to say that I was given the opportunity to be someone else, but that is not entirely true."

"Maura," she turns to face her. She places her hands on her shoulders, "It is late, and I am exhausted. I want the cliff-notes version. I need you to just be upfront, and tell me what the hell you are talking about."

"I feel like I am living a lie. I feel guilty, because I am alive," she prefaces the conversation.

"Why would you feel that way?"

"I miss who I used to be," she admits.

"Maura, I still have no idea what you are talking about."

Maura reaches into the box, and fishes out an ID. She hands the ID to Jane. Jane glances at the ID that looks as if it is Government Issue.

"What is this?"

"Open it," Maura suggests.

Jane flips it open, and finds a picture of someone who looks like Maura. Her hair is different, and she is younger, but it is definitely Maura. Jane shifts her glance to the print next to the photo. She furrows her brow.

"Caitlin Todd. Who is Caitlin Todd? Is this some sort of joke? Where did you get this?"

"It was mine. I was her."

"What do you mean? Maura what is going on here?"

"Have I ever told you why I became a medical examiner?"

"You prefer the dead?" She tries to recall.

"When I was in medical school I was on rotation with a forensic pathologist at an area hospital."

"He was influential?"

"He was gunned down in cold blood after our shift."

"Maura, I am sorry. That is terrible."

Maura unbuttons her pajama top. Jane scrunches her face in dissatisfaction.

"What are you doing?"

Maura slips her shirt off, and Jane realizes that she is wearing a camisole underneath. Maura points to an area of her skin near the camisole strap. Jane stares at a scar near Maura's armpit.

"I was changing my clothes in the locker room when I heard arguing. I witnessed the whole thing."

"They shot you?"

"When I woke up I asked myself who would have spoken for me, if I had died that day?"

"That is why you became a medical examiner?"

She shakes her head, "Not entirely."

"I did die that day," she adds.

"You're right here."

"I was clinically dead for two minutes. I was resuscitated, and ushered into surgery. When I woke up I was informed that I no longer existed."

Jane furrows her brow, "By whom?"

"The United States Marshal Service."

"They put you into witness protection?"

"I was recruited to become a member of the secret service."

Jane arches an eyebrow, "You were in the secret service?"

"I was in the President's security detail."

"This is NCIS," Jane points to the badge.

"I was let go from the secret service, but I was offered a job with NCIS."

"Are you being serious right now?" Jane's eyes widen.

"Yes," Maura confirms as she rises from her seat. She goes over to the cabinet and removes a second coffee cup. She pours the warm black liquid into the cup, and places it in front of Jane.

"You are telling me that you wore a gun and a badge?" Jane questions as Maura returns to her seat.

"For years," Maura reveals.

"Then what?"

"The case went to trial, and I came back to Boston."

"What happened to her," Jane points to the picture.

"She took a three oh eight to the forehead."

"Then how are you still here?"

"The shooting was staged. The shooter was given blanks. There was no gun powder. It was filled with a capsule of blood, and a neuromuscular blocking agent."

"To make it appear as if you were dead?"

"I have never told anyone," she admits.

"Why are you telling me now?"

She shrugs, "I don't know. I guess that I miss her."

Jane looks at the box. Maura nods, "Go ahead."

Jane pulls out a plastic case with an unloaded service weapon. She finds cards, and letters, and a few pictures. She finds a picture of Maura standing with a tall guy who screams G-Man.

"Is this about him?"

"Tony," she whispers.

"Who was he?"

"My partner."

"Do you still think about him?"


	4. A Lifetime Ago

McGee turns to his left, and studies the facial expression of his teammate as he emotionlessly types his report. He is uncharacteristically quiet. Gibbs, and Bishop have retired for the evening, and the two of them are finishing their case reports. Tim clears his throat, but Tony doesn't flinch. Tim guesses that he doesn't even register his presence. Tony stops typing, abruptly.

"Tony what are you thinking about?"

Tony stares blankly at his monitor, and subtly shakes his head, "Nothing, Tim."

"Tony, I can see there is something on your mind. There always is when you are quiet."

He turns to his colleague, "Don't worry about it, McGee."

"How long have I known you?"

"Too long, probably," he admits.

"Which one of them are you thinking about?"

"The one that I can never have. Why do I do that? Why do I always want what I can't have?"

"Kate," he mentions her name.

"It has been nearly eleven years, you think that I would have moved on by now."

"Did you ever tell her?"

"No," he responds to the question that is only implied.

"Maybe you should."

"How? Should I scream it out into the universe?"

Tim shrugs, "I don't know."

"It's weird, because sometimes I will wake up in the middle of the night, and it is as if I can feel her thinking about me. It is like she is out there in the universe somewhere, thinking about me. I know that sounds completely crazy, because there is absolutely zero chance of that."

"You have to tell her."

"I'll tell her."

Tim grins, "And not the goldfish, either."

"I'll go to where she is, and tell her. It is probably the only way that I can move on."

* * *

Jane studies the two smiling people in the photograph. She looks up at her best friend. She sees the guilt written on her face.

"You loved him."

Maura doesn't confirm, nor deny.

"Maura did you tell him?"

"Love comes slowly," she answers.

"And it goes so fast," Jane responds.

"I never told him. Kate's life disappeared in an instant, and I never had the chance to fully explore who she truly was, or what she might have been."

"This is never going to let you go, if you don't face it."

"I never thought about who I was going to hurt. I guess I didn't believe I was ever going to come back home."

"Does this feel like home?"

"It is a home," she answers.

"I have never seen you like this. What has brought this about?"

"The kidnapping was not my first brush with PTSD. Usually having my best friend around is enough, but this time… my mind wandered to someone else. I found myself thinking about someone who was my partner, my friend, and…" she trails off.

"So tell him."

"I can't. I can't just show up on his doorstep after a decade, and tell him. He thinks that I am dead. He was standing right there when it happened. He was standing on the rooftop, and he was splattered with blood as Kate died. He had to be traumatized, but I am certain that he moved on. He always did move quickly. I am sure that his heart has found someone else."

"But what if the hole in his heart can never heal, because you were who he was looking for?"

"I'm not her."

"What is really holding you back?"

"He's probably married by now."

* * *

The rain is pouring down in a cemetery in the D.C. area. He wears his suit, and dress clothes. He holds an umbrella as his Italian loafers begin feeling soggy. He stares at her headstone. He places flowers on her grave. His clothes, and skin become wetter with every passing moment. It is late, and there is no reason that this can't wait until morning, except his heart. His heart is heavy with regret. He stares at the stone, as if she is sitting there, waiting on him.

"Kate, I know that it is late. You left my too soon. I never got the chance to tell you, " a lump begins to form in his throat as his eyes begin to fill with tears, "I never got to tell you the truth." He allows his tears to mix with the rain. The rain washes them away as quickly as they fall. He continues even though his heart feels as if it shattering into a million pieces. "I loved you. I guess, part of me always will. It is like Adele says, 'Old friend, why are you so why? Ain't like you to hold back, or hide from the light… I'll find someone like you,'. The truth is there is no one like you. There was one who was nothing like you, and I couldn't make it work with her. I can never make it work. I guess, 'Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead,'. Right about now you would be punching my arm, because I am reciting cheesy song lyrics, but I don't think I have to words to say how I feel. I feel betrayed that you left me so soon, and that I never had the opportunity to find out how this story would play out. We would probably have gotten married, and divorced by now," he scoffs.

His fingers trace the letters of her name that are etched into the stone. "I will never know. I will never know what loving you was like. I think about us, and how it could have been. I wonder what our children would have looked like, and you are the only one I can ever envision that kind of a future with."

He glances down at his watch. "It is getting late, I should get home."


	5. Let It Go

The rain beats on the windshield as she turns onto a familiar street. She parks her car, and she races inside. She enters the building, and reaches into the pocket of her pajamas. She stares at the door, and ignores everything that her head is telling her. She puts the key in the lock, certain that it will not work. She turns the key, and the door unlocks. She carefully enters the apartment, gently closing the door behind her. She tiptoes into the apartment. She walks past the couch, and makes a beeline for the bedroom. She tiptoes over to the bedside stand, and moves a metallic object out of his reach. She listens to him as he lies there, under covers, snoring like a freight train. He lies in the middle of the bed, as per usual. Only child syndrome, she always called it. She sandwiches herself between him, and the bedside stand. She lowers herself onto the bed, next to him. Her heart races, and she feels certain that she is making a mistake. She exhales her fear.

"Tony," she whispers.

"Kate," he exhales.

She looks at him, but he doesn't stir. "Tony," she repeats his name.

He lies there, unable to move a muscle. He opens his eyes, and it as if he can hear the sound of her voice. He inhales, and he feels his senses betray him. He inhales her scent. He reminds himself that the mind the most dangerous organ. This isn't the first time he has felt this way. He rolls onto his side, and rolls into someone. He reaches out, and places his hand on a leg. He feels silk.

"Kate," he exhales.

"I'm not Kate anymore," she tells him.

"What are you doing here? You haven't hijacked my dreams in a while."

"I need to tell you something," she admits.

"I'm listening."

"I love you," she reveals.

"I love you, too. I guess that the universe heard me, when I was at your grave earlier tonight."

She reaches over, and flips on the light. His eyes sting. He rubs them, and he sits up. She sits right next to him, on his bed. Her hazel eyes stare at him intently. She is older, and her hair is a different color. He grins.

"I never pictured you as a redhead."

"Strawberry blonde," she corrects.

"I wish you were really here."

"Tony, I am not an apparition."

"I only see you in my dreams."

"I am not a dream."

"Would you classify yourself as a ghost?"

"I drove all night," she begins.

"It must have been a long drive from heaven," he points out.

"It isn't that far of a drive from Boston."

He furrows his brow, "Boston?"

"I am not Kate anymore, I never was. I'm Maura."

"Maura? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You are the one that I love," he admits.

"Am I?"

"You are the one I can't get over. I just want you. I want to kiss your lips every morning for the rest of my life. I want to fall asleep next to you, and wake up with you until the end of time. I wish you were here, so I could make you my wife. We could make love, and have the most beautiful babies."

"Me too."

He looks past her at his alarm clock, it reads; _0558_.

"How long did it take you to get here?"

"Six hours."

"You can make it from heaven in six hours?"

"Boston, I did exceed the speed limit quite a bit, though."

"I don't care," he presses his lips to hers. She doesn't make him stop. She doesn't interrupt him. When he stops she kisses him back. His fingers tug at the buttons of her shirt. She peels it off over her head. His fingers curl around the waistband of her pants.

When he wakes up he expects to be alone, as he always is. Though this dream is far more vivid than his others, it isn't the first time he has dreamt of her. The red hair is something new, that he hadn't expected. He rolls onto his side, and finds someone lying next to him. He opens his eyes, and finds himself staring at the back of someone's head. He stares at the tangled mop of strawberry blonde hair. They lie under tangled sheets. He scoots in close, and puts his arm around her. His hand comes to rest on her bare abdomen. He peeks over her shoulder, at her face. Her eyes begin to flutter open, and she rolls towards him. They lie in his bed face to face, completely silent. He sees a few lines at the edge of her eyes that he never noticed before. He waits for her to vanish into thin air.

"Tony, I am not a figment of your imagination. I am here, in the flesh."

"Kate," he whispers her name.

"Maura."

"You're dead," he argues.

"Kate is dead."

"I know, I was there. This isn't possible," he insists.

"When I was Kate I was living under an assumed identity provided by the US Marshal Service."

"You took a three oh eight to the skull."

"They made it look that way. They had to."

"You walked away? Where did you go?"

"Boston."

"Did Gibbs know?"

"No."

"McGee?"

"No."

"Abby?"

"No."

"Ducky?"

She nods, "Ducky knew, but he was not permitted to tell anyone."

"How could you just walk away?"

"Do you think that I wanted to? I didn't. I was obligated to participate in a trial. I had to return to Boston for the trial."

"Why didn't you come back, and tell me the truth after it was over?"

"I returned to medicine. I had no reason to come back to D.C.. You never gave me any reason to."

"Then why are you here, now?"

"I thought that I could move on. I have spent nearly eleven years convincing myself that everything was fine, but it wasn't. I have a successful career, and a nice house, and a lot of shoes, but there has been something missing all along. I tried to find someone who would fill the void, but no one ever did."

"Why me? I am just some forty something who has never been able to make a single relationship work."

"Because it was always you."


	6. Resurgence

The look in her eye tells him that she is serious. Her elbow rests on the mattress, and her hand supports her head, as she stares into his hazel eyes.

"Is this supposed to be a secret? Am I supposed to keep this to myself, and pretend that this never happened?"

"No. I am not asking you to do that."

"What are you asking me?"

"For the most non-committal person I have ever met in my life to commit."

"You should have asked me eleven years ago," he points out.

"Is there someone else?"

"There have been tons of someone's," he admits.

"Currently?"

"No, and none of them are you."

"I shouldn't have barged in here in the middle of the night, that was…"

"Uncharacteristic," he points out.

"It is totally out of character for me. If I am being honest I drove all night, and I had absolutely no plan."

"Except to break into my apartment."

"I used the key," she tells him, "You never changed the lock."

"I guess I never had a reason to."

"You don't have to change your life for me."

He grins, as he tucks stray hair behind her ear. "The perpetual bachelor lifestyle gets old, Maura. I don't know Maura. I only know Kate," he points out.

"So take me on a date," she suggests.

"What do you do for a living?" He questions.

"I am a medical examiner."

His lips curl into a smile, "You never could get away from murder, could you?"

"No."

"Where do you want to go?" He asks her.

"Can we just stay here?"

"You want to stay in bed, all day?"

"Why not?"

"Because I have never known you to stay in bed all day. Is Maura different?"

"Not that much."

"Everything I said last night…"

"It's okay if you didn't mean it."

He shakes his head, "I meant all of it, even the part about making beautiful babies."

She grins from ear to ear, "Really?"

"The way I figure it we are not getting any younger. I think that we should be logical about all of this. We should try to make some beautiful little DiNozzo babies, and then worry about getting married once you're good and knocked up."

"How white trash," she voices dissent.

"You are objecting?"

"You just want to screw around."

"You have been dead for nearly eleven years. We have some catching up to do."

"What happens is you succeed?"

"In what?"

"Your endeavor?"

"Of knocking you up? It won't happen on the first day."

"Humor me."

"From a scientific stand point what are the odds of that?"

"I am not going to answer that question. You haven't answered mine."

"I will put a ring on it, and move to Boston."

She rolls her eyes, "You will never leave NCIS."

"You don't believe me?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Okay," he reaches over on his bedside stand and grabs his phone.

"I put your gun away," she adds.

"That was probably a good choice," he pulls out his phone, and unlocks it.

"Who are you calling?"

"Gibbs," he insists.

Gibbs is sitting at his kitchen table eating steak and eggs for Sunday breakfast when his phone rings. He puts it to his ear.

"Gibbs."

"Gibbs, this is DiNozzo," he responds.

"My caller ID alerted me to that. What do you need?"

"I want to issue my two weeks notice," he responds.

Gibbs rolls his eyes, "Take it up with Vance on Monday."

"Will do, bye," he hangs up.

Maura stares at him with a bewildered look on her face. She furrows her brows.

"What did he say?"

"I have to take it up with Vance on Monday."

* * *

He exits the elevator on Monday morning with extra pep in his step, and a huge smile plastered on his face. He drops his stuff at his desk, and carries an envelope to Vance's office. He returns to his desk, and finds agent McGee staring at him.

"What has you so chipper?" McGee whistles as DiNozzo whistles.

"Well, Timmy, boy, I am moving on."

McGee rolls his eyes, "To a new deluxe apartment in the sky?"

"Boston," DiNozzo informs him.

"What's in Boston?"

"She is in Boston," he answers.

"That was a quick turn around," he admits.

"I am resilient," DiNozzo insists.

Gibbs enters the bullpen with a cup of coffee in hand, "Not that resilient," he argues.

"Boss I have officially delivered my two weeks notice, and I will soon be moving on."

"What would possess you to do that?" Gibbs queries.

"Probably a girl," Tim guesses.

"Not a girl, the girl," DiNozzo corrects him.

"I thought Kate was the girl," Tim argues.

"She was."

Gibbs shakes his head, "What is her name?"

"Maura."

"It won't last," Tim tells him.

"Are you being serious right now?" Gibbs scowls.

DiNozzo nods, "Yes." Gibbs steps forward, and raises his hand. DiNozzo flinches, expecting him to swat him on the back of the head. Instead, Gibbs pats him on the back.

"Good for you."

DiNozzo stands in the middle of their desks feeling confused by this series of events. It takes him an exceptionally long time to formulate a responds, "Thanks, boss." The elevator dings, but none of them pay any attention to who steps off. Tim, and Gibbs all stare at DiNozzo enveloped in feelings of disbelief. The sound of heels move towards them, swiftly. Tony face's Gibb's desk. Gibbs, and McGee's eyes widen. They stare past Tony, at a redhead in six inch heels.


	7. Make It Right

She stands there in the middle of the squad room, and for a moment time stands still. Her hair is different, and she is older, but her eyes are the same. Gibbs stares at her, and he breathes a sigh of relief. She grins from ear to ear, but doesn't dare to break the silence. The elevator doors open once again, and Abby jets out of the elevator. Maura finds herself being enveloped in a signature Abby hug. Eventually Abby lets go.

"Where did you come from?" Tim finally interrupts the awkward silence, looking at Abby.

"I was in my lab, and I heard heels clicking on the floor, and I had to come up here, because I would recognize the sound of her walking anywhere."

"Abby I…" Maura trails off.

Abby grins, "It's okay. I don't need to know all of the dirty details. To be honest, I don't even care."

Without a single word Gibb's steps forward, and his stoic façade is ruptured as a smile creeps onto his face. He hugs Maura.

"I am glad you finally came home," he tells her.

"She isn't here to stay," Tony explains.

"That's okay," Gibbs sets the tone for the group, as he turns to Tony.

"I should be going, but I had to come here before I leave. I want to tell you all how truly sorry I am for the pain that I caused you. It was never my intention to hurt any of you. To be honest, when I came to D.C. it was never my intention to become so attached to everyone. I didn't know when I came here I was going to be getting a second family. I am so sorry for the way that I left, and that I didn't rectify this sooner. I thought that everyone was better off if I stayed gone."

Gibbs clears his throat, "What changed your mind?"

"I missed all of you terribly."

"But life goes on," Tim points out.

"Time moves forward, but character growth takes more than time. For sometime, I have felt that I am living a lie, because I never told anyone about being here. Not facing the truth was holding me back. How could I possibly move forward, when I hadn't even been able to face the past?"

"You should pick a role that is less public next time," Abby argues.

Maura furrows her brow, "What do you mean?"

"Several years ago I developed a software program that had facial recognition embedded into it. Each morning I would run the program to ensure that none of the team ended up on the front page, because quite frankly Gibb's hates it, and it is better if I prepare him. I included current, and past team members. Imagine my surprise when I the software started recognizing your face. At first I thought it was a mistake, but after the second, or third time, I realized it wasn't. I came to the conclusion that you either had an identical twin, or that you weren't really dead," Abby explains.

"Why didn't you ever try to contact me?"

"I knew that if it were the latter you would have a reason, and I didn't want to take the chance of jeopardizing your safety."

"Abby one day I promise that I will explain everything, but right now I should start home."

Without any warning Maura finds herself in the middle of a group hug. When she finally frees herself of the hug she finds Gibbs staring at her. He glances at the visitor ID badge pinned to her dress.

"Let me walk you out."

She nods, and he silently escorts her to the elevator. She watches the elevator doors close, and anticipates his next move. She isn't surprised when he stops the elevator. He turns to face her.

"For over ten years I have seen DiNozzo chase one skirt after the other. Every time he fails miserably. You are not the only one who couldn't move on. Maura, do right by him, okay?"

"He didn't tell you?"

Gibbs furrows his brow, "Who?"

"Ducky," she says in a soft tone, "He never told you?"

"No," he shakes his head, "He knew?"

She exhales, and tries to maintain her composure, though she wants to cry. "I always assumed that he would tell you," she shakes her head, "I should have told you."

"Damn right. You should have trusted me."

"I do."

He nods, and his serious mean mug shifts into a smile, "Then make it right."

* * *

When Maura arrives home she finds dinner waiting on her. Angela, and Jane sit around the island awaiting her return. She drops her bag at the front door, and kicks out of her heels. She eases onto a barstool, and has a plate of spaghetti pushed in front of her. She can feel two pairs of eyes dissecting her.

"How was your trip?" Angela can't keep her questions at bay any longer.

She smiles genuinely in response, "It was eye opening."

"Did you come alone?" Jane probes.

"Yes," she nods in confirmation.

"He was married, with kids?" Angela guesses.

Maura shakes her head, and her facial expression shifts, "No."

Jane picks up on the furrows in Maura's forehead, the frown on her face, and the sudden lack of eye contact.

"Maura?" Jane responds.

"It is my fault. He never had closure, so he couldn't move on. He never would have moved on," the guilt washes over her.

"Was he angry?" Angela questions.

"No. He wasn't."

"What did he say?" Jane sits on the edge of her seat waiting for a response.

"He is going to give up the job that he loves, and has had for most of his adult life, and move to Boston."

Jane furrows her brow, "Why don't you look happier?"

"I don't think that it is fair for him to give up everything, when I have given up nothing."

"Did you ask him?" Angela quizzes.

"No, he volunteered," Maura admits.

"Then don't feel guilty. He wants to be with you. Never feel guilty for the choices someone else makes voluntarily," Angela advises

"What if it doesn't work out, then what?" Maura replies.

"You'll never know if you don't try. It certainly won't work if you never try."

Maura turns to Jane for the voice of reason.

"Maura, she's right."


	8. Marry Me

She tosses, and turns from one side to the other, until her covers are wrapped around her. Eventually she frees herself of her restraints, and turns towards the clock. It tells her that she needs to get up soon. She feels anxious, and wonders if she has made the right decision totally disrupting the lives of all of the people that she cares about. She hears footsteps coming up the stairs, and her heartbeat quickens. A shadowy figure appears in the doorway.

"Don't shoot," a familiar voice tells her.

The figure continues to move until it stops next to her bed. Without a word he climbs into the bed, next to her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Coming for you."

"You aren't supposed to be here until tomorrow," she reminds him.

"They released me early for good behavior," he jokes.

"Shh!"

"I missed you more than you will ever know," he admits.

"I'm tired," she tells him.

He wraps his arms around her, and kisses her forehead. "Then close your eyes. I'm not going anywhere."

She settles against his chest, and for once she feels at peace. He lies awake, a few minutes longer than she does. He feels as she drifts off to sleep. He just listens to her breathe. He inhales, and takes in the scent of her shampoo. He closes his eyes, and sleep comes to him too.

When she wakes in the morning she refuses to begin her morning routine. She rolls over, and finds a familiar face asleep next to her. She watches him as he sleeps. She reaches out, and caresses his face. His eyes flutter open, and he stares back at her.

"Good morning," he greets.

"Morning," she smiles as she scoots closer to him. They are covered only by her sheet.

"What are your plans for the day?"

"I thought we were just going to lay here," she answers quickly.

"I am not entirely opposed to it," he admits.

"But?"

"I had some other ideas," he admits.

"For example?"

He slides out of the bed, and pulls on his boxer shorts. He reaches into the pocket of his pants, and pulls out a clear plastic bag. He returns to the bed taking a seat next to her. He closes his hand into a fist in an effort to conceal the contents of the plastic baggy.

"What is it?"

"I was thinking that we have both waited for this moment for a very long time," he explains.

She furrows her brow, "For you to be in my bedroom wearing nothing more than boxer shorts?"

He grins, "That too."

"What exactly are you referring to?" She queries.

"We have waited for a long time for our hearts to beat as one. We have been separated by time, and distance, but somehow we have been brought back together. We are like a rubber band, I guess. You can pull the two ends a certain distance apart, but in the end they snap back together."

"Where is this going?"

"I don't want to wait any longer," he tells her.

"I don't want to miss anymore moments with you."

"You're here."

He presses his lips to her forehead, "That is not enough."

Her glance shifts from his face to his clenched hand.

"Is that for me?" She asks him.

He nods, "Yes."

"Can I have it?"

"You have to answer a few questions first," he insists.

"Okay," she agrees, reluctantly.

"Maura, would you please take me off the market? Would you be my wife?"

"What kind of question is that?"

He furrows his brow, "What kind of answer is that?"

She smiles, revealing her dimples, "I would be happy to marry you."

He opens his hand, and peels open the baggy. He pulls out the diamond ring, and places it on her finger. She stares at the ring, and then looks at him. He sees a light in her eyes that he has missed so much.

"I don't want to wait," he tells her.

"We can do it soon," she assures him.

"What about today?"

She swallows hard, and her eyes widen, "What?!"

"Put your money where your mouth is. Marry me, today."

"You want me to go down to the courthouse, and get hitched?"

He shakes his head, "No, of course not. We just have to go get a marriage license."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Leave the details up to me," he implores.

"Tony…"

"Trust me," he tells her.

"Okay," she agrees.

"Then it's settled," he grins.

"Wait," she presses her hand to his chest as he leans forward to kiss her.

"What?"

"There is something that you should know before we do this."

"This isn't where you tell me that you're a man, is it?"

"No."

"Then, what?"

"Give me a minute," she insists.

He leans against the headboard as she slithers out of bed. She pulls his white t-shirt over her head, and exits the room. He watches her disappear into the bathroom. A few moments later she returns to the room, with her hand behind her back.

"Did you get me something?" He questions.

"I didn't get you anything."

"So what is that?" He points.

"Tony, are you sure about this? I mean you have never been very good at commitment."

"I am certain about this. I am certain about you," he insists.

"I know."

"Aren't you?"

"Yes," she nods.

He studies her facial expression, "Maura why do you look so worried?"

"I have spent so many years being conditioned that there is not happily ever after. I had given up on feeling whole."

He reaches out, and pulls her towards him, "I am not going anywhere."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he nods.

"No matter what?"

"No matter what," he agrees.

She pulls the object out from behind her back, and hands it to him. He slips the item out of her hand, and studies it closely.


End file.
